


like daddy, like daughter (or, the mommy problem)

by anna_kat



Series: Ward x Simmons Summer [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grace Ward - Freeform, Original Character(s), Ward x Simmons Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_kat/pseuds/anna_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>All was perfectly well. And then it wasn’t.</em>
</p><p>Grace Ward has never been prone to tantrums. Neither has she had problems sharing. Until she decides that her mother is the exception.</p><p>For the 'sharing' theme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like daddy, like daughter (or, the mommy problem)

**Author's Note:**

> From week sixteen of WardxSimmons Summer, for the _sharing_ theme.

When it first begins, it’s so subtle that Grant and Jemma don’t even realize it’s happening. Later, once the situation has reached a high point, they have to think hard about when it started. 

The first time they convince Fitz and Skye to take a date night after the twins are born, they’ve also volunteered to watch Eli and Emery for the evening. Grace couldn’t be more excited to help take care of the babies. Until they actually get there.

“Just remember, Emery likes to be rocked to sleep, but Eli likes being still. They’ll go out like lights.” Skye says (for the sixtieth time) as she tugs her jacket on. “And if they get fussy, they really like when you talk to them. Or you could sing, that helps. And don’t be afraid to-”

“Call you, we know.” Jemma says with a grin. “Sweetie, we’ll be fine, and so will the babies.”

Skye flashes a nervous smile and pulls the front door open. “Right. Okay. It’ll be fine, you’re right.” She seems frozen in the doorway. “It’s fine.”

Fitz wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her onto the porch gently. “Come on, love. Let’s go have a nice night, just the two of us, mm?” When Skye turns a more serene smile up to him, he leans down to press a quick kiss to her lips. She heads for the car and Fitz turns back to Jemma quickly. “Just promise you’ll call if something happens, okay? Promise?”

The biochemist steps closer to him and taps his nose. “I promise. Now go have fun.”

“They finally left?” Grant asks when Jemma makes her way into the living room again.

“Yes, they’ve gone to have a wonderful night to themselves.” She smiles at her husband, taking a seat beside him on the couch and gently extracting Emery from her car seat. “And we get to have a wonderful night with you, don’t we? Oh, hello, gorgeous. How are you, hm? How are you?”

Emery squirms about, big blue eyes focusing intently on Jemma’s face.

Jemma smiles at the baby, and then over to her twin who is resting against Grant’s thighs as he leans back against the couch cushions. “Where’s Gracie?”

Grant trails his fingers along Eli’s belly before tickling under his chin. “She made silly faces at the babies for about ten seconds before she went upstairs to pick a movie.”

As though summoned by her name, the three-year old thumps her way down the stairs and into the living room. Holding a DVD case in her hands, she pauses a few steps from her parents and narrows her eyes for just a moment. “Aunt Skye and Uncle Leo are coming back tonight?”

Grant nods. “They went to have dinner and see movie. They’ll be back in a bit.”

Grace shrugs and presents her movie choice to her parents.

Fitz and Skye come back a couple of hours later to collect their children (with no small amount of absolute joy) and Jemma bids them goodnight while Grant carries their daughter up to her own bed.

Months later, they decide that this was the beginning.

 

-

 

All is perfectly well (until it isn’t, of course, but they haven’t reached that point just yet) for months and months. Eventually, Gracie’s birthday rolls around.

“Mommy, come see the bouncy house!” The now four-year old exclaims, catching Jemma’s hand and trying to pull her across the back yard. “Come see it, come see it!”

Jemma fixes her daughter’s ponytail and then kisses the crown of her head. “I’ll come in a moment, darling, I was just going to change Eli’s diaper really quickly, okay?”

Grace frowns. “Why can’t Aunt Skye do it?”

“She’s helping Daddy with the piñata. It’ll only take a minute, alright?” Jemma tries a smile, watching the little girl’s face carefully.

“But it’s my birthday.” Grace says with just the smallest hint of a whine. “It’s my day, you said.”

“Of course it is, love. I’ll only be gone a minute.” Jemma nearly flinches. Luckily, Grace Ward has never been one for tantrums, but Jemma figures it’d be just their luck to push her into dramatics during her birthday party.

But Grace just crosses her arms over chest, frowning in a spectacular imitation of her father. “I’m gonna go find Uncle Phil.”

“Do you think it’s the twins? What if she doesn’t like when we’re taking care of them? What are we going to do?” Jemma asks Grant that night as they’re getting ready for bed. She tries not to sound too hysterical, but they’ve been trying to decide how and when to tell their daughter that there’s a new sibling on the way, and she’s terrified Grace won’t be happy about it.

“It’ll be okay, Jem. She’s had us all to herself for four years now, it’s going to take some getting used to when we have the new baby. But she’ll be fine. She’s got months to warm up to the idea.” Grant promises, collapsing onto the bed and leaning over to press a kiss to Jemma’s belly.

She tries not to worry too much.

 

-

 

They’re beyond worried.

Grace takes the news without much reaction, just offers a shrug and an ‘okay’ with a level of nonchalance that should not be achievable by a four-year old child.

“Maybe she just needs time to adjust, right? Maybe she’s drawing pictures for the baby. Maybe she’s having her own celebration. Maybe she’s plotting to take immediate action-”

“Grant!” Jemma yelps.

“Sorry, sorry.” He rubs against his forehead roughly, like there’s a headache forming. “I’m sorry. It’s probably fine. Maybe she’s just not really processing that you’re carrying an actual baby. It’s fine. It’s fine, right?”

Jemma groans into her hands.

 

-

 

All was perfectly well. And then it wasn’t.

“No!” Grace cries, pulling forcefully on Jemma’s hand. “No, I want you stay!”

Grant tries to loosen their daughter’s grip again, tries to tug her back a bit. “Grace, it’s okay, honey-”

“No, it’s not! I don’t want Mommy to go!” The little brunette exclaims, now wrapping an arm around Jemma’s thigh and holding tight. “I want you to stay here with me!”

Grace is all desperate anger, but Jemma’s on the verge of tears. They’ve never had to do this before. “Sweetheart, it’s just lunch with one of the teachers that works with me, I’ll be back in just a bit-”

“No! Stay!”

Jemma barely contains a sob, swallowing roughly and looking at her husband through the blur of tears. “Grant.”

He straightens and presses a kiss to her forehead. “We need to talk to her about this. Think Elaine will be too upset if you’re a little late?”

Jemma sniffles and shakes her head, slipping her hand into Grace’s and moving toward the living room. “Come here, Grace. Daddy and I want to talk to you.”

Grace takes a seat on the couch, still gripping her mother’s hand. “You’re staying?”

“For a little bit.” Jemma watches her daughter’s face scrunch up. “Darling, what’s the matter? You’ve never done this before.”

Scooting back until she’s against the cushions, Grace frowns. “I don’t like sharing you.”

Jemma’s eyebrows go up. “You’ve never had trouble sharing before.”

The next face Grace makes reminds both parents a great deal of Skye. “I share my toys with my friends and sometimes Eli and Emery. And I share my cookies with Uncle Leo and my books with Aunt Skye.”

Grant nods, tucking a curl behind his daughter’s ear. “Yes, you do. That’s very good sharing. Sometimes, though, you have to share people too, like your aunts and uncles and cousins. Or your friends, or me and Mommy-”

Suddenly, Grace looks confused. “No, I don’t have to share Mommy.”

Jemma looks like she’s about to argue that point when Grant holds up his hand. “Why not?”

Almost exasperated, the four-year old gives her father a look like he must be teasing her. “I don’t have to share Mommy because you said so, Daddy. You said so.”

There’s a heavy silence suddenly settling over the room, and Grant’s entirely afraid to look over at his wife. She seems to have no such issue, and he can feel her stare burning against the side of his face.

“When did Daddy say this, Grace?” Jemma asks, her tone gently inquisitive with their daughter despite the look she’s still sending him.

Grace heaves a sigh like this is all very generally exhausting to her. “Awhile ago. When we had Uncle Phil’s birthday party. And you went into the kitchen, and Daddy gave you a slobbery kiss and said he wanted to be alone with you now.” She sighs again. “And then you said he had to share you until the party was over and he said he didn’t want to share you, and you laughed even though it wasn’t really funny, and then there was more slobbery kissing and that was yucky, so I went to find cake.”

Grant gapes at his child, finally looking up at Jemma to find her flushing to the roots of her hair, one hand pressed to the side of her face. “Oh. Um. Honey, that’s a little different.”

Grace does not look impressed. “Nuh-uh.”

Jemma still seems shocked into a state of eternal blushing, so he kisses Grace’s forehead gently. “Alright, Gracie, I think maybe we’ll talk about this a little bit later, okay? Before we have dinner. Why don’t you go upstairs and play for awhile, yeah?”

Grace slides off the couch and looks skeptically at her father. “Mommy won’t leave, will she?”

Grant shakes his head. “No, I think she’ll stay here for tonight. I’ll call Miss Elaine and tell her they’ll have their meeting another day.”

The little girl seems satisfied, looking at Jemma for a moment before leaning against Grant’s shoulder. “I think maybe you should be careful with Mommy. She looks funny.” She whispers loudly before skipping toward the stairs.

Grant exhales dramatically and flops back against the arm of the couch. “Well, it could’ve been worse, right?” When he doesn’t get an answer, he sits up again. “Uh. Jem?” Her ears and chest are still flushed pink, but her face has taken a turn toward bright red, her eyebrows furrowing together and her mouth flattening into a thin line.  _Oh shit_. “Okay, Jem, I know you’re mad, I do, but remember, our daughter is just upstairs, a-and you’re also pregnant, so make sure that if you attack me, you’re careful-”

“I am definitely going to attack you!” Jemma snaps, and in two seconds flat, she’s chasing her 6’2” ex-specialist of a husband in circles around the house.

It’s not funny and she is  _not_ laughing. She’s not.


End file.
